


Do I know you?

by Theriverthewoods



Category: Original Work
Genre: Crime, Gen, Memories, PTSD, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22183078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theriverthewoods/pseuds/Theriverthewoods
Summary: Grimes is recognized.





	Do I know you?

“Is that? God, is it really… Jeremy?”  
  
Grimes did not turn.  
  
“Jeremy Lyndon!” The voice was persistent. More than that, it knew his full name.  
  
Grimes started to walk slowly on, he hoped whoever thought they knew him would figure they were incorrect. He hoped he could assume he’d misheard.  
But, no. There were footsteps growing in volume and tempo behind him. He couldn’t walk any faster without revealing his identity. He hoped he didn’t look the same. He hoped he’d changed. He hoped this person would see his scarred face and make no connections. How could they? He’d never been there. He’d not been there. It hadn’t been him. No one had known. He’d left before anyone could have known. He knew he did. He left and no one knew what became of him. He’d seen the street where it happened. It was still just an empty lot. Just an empty lot. He’d never gotten the handcuffs off so there was no evidence of him at the scene. There was one victim left in the rubble and it had not. Been. Him. It had not. Been. Him. It was. Not. Him. Not anymore. No. He was not Jeremy. Not Jeremy. Not--  
  
A hand clasped his shoulder. He turned.  
  
  
“Jeremy.” The voice said, in awe. Grimes did not appreciate awe. He wanted anonymity. More than anything he wanted to leave before anything occurred in this town.  
  
“I’m sorry” He said, and his voice sounded rough and foreign and he briefly wondered why he didn’t sound like himself, he was only seventeen years old. He just wanted to smoke cigarettes and get himself into harmless trouble. Harmless trouble. Harmless trouble. “I think you have the wrong person.”  
  
The old eyes crinkled into a smile. “Jeremy. It is you, isn’t it?”  
  
The hand did not leave his shoulder.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m a tourist.” Grimes said, tensing at the memory of the man recognizing him. Memories 30 years old. Memories of money passing hands and illicit alcohol. And danger, danger, danger. Danger unrecognized in youth.  
  
“I hardly recognized you with all that shit on your face” Clark said, sniggering, reaching up to Jeremy’s face. Grimes flinched and pulled away, he flinched out of panic. He had not expected to panic, he never panicked, this was a disproportionate reaction. He couldn’t help himself. He was seventeen again and his face was unscarred, and he was coercing an all-too-easily coerced man into buying him and his friends alcohol but he knew in the back of his mind it was all going to end so quickly. He was seventeen again and the matches had fallen to the floor and he knew what he had to do and he shuffled himself as far as he could get with the handcuffs on and he reached out his foot and he edged the matches closer to him and he knew the flames were coming but it was the only thing he could do it was the only thing to do he didn’t know he didn’t know he hadn’t expected that but there was nothing else he could do nothing else he could do it wasn’t his fault it wasn’t his fault it wasn’t his fault it never happened it never happened to him. He hadn’t known her.  
  
Grimes caught the old man’s hand. “I don’t know who you are. I’ve never seen you before in my life.” He gripped his wrist with too much force, meaning to leave a bruise. The man’s face scrunched into a wince. Grimes turned on his heel and walked away.


End file.
